The Burrow

Grace Flandreau died with great riches, much of which she left to Tucson.  Her friends decided that a planetarium would be a wonderful use of the money.  Her biographical plaque didn't say why. I was left with a hole in my fountain of knowledge, a hole which grew deeper as the afternoon went on.  We had a wonderful time, my boys and I, and I'd hate for you to end with that impression.  It's just that it could have been so much more. Miss Vicki and Scarlett and I went to the opening of the new projection system last Fall.  The speaker was delighted with his new toy, whose computerized technology was hidden from our view.  All we saw were two boxes resembling slide projectors, nestled in niches near the ceiling.  It was much less fascinating than Hector Vector, which it replaced. Even the worker bees loved Hector.  Can you see his Santa hat?   But Hector was lowered into his pit in the middle of the auditorium, and a ten...

Zanner and I put together a multitude of Little Tykes playsets.  She, newly divorced and childless, I, newly retired and overwhelmed, sat on the floor of my living room with orange and blue and yellow plastic tubes and steps and connectors neatly organized by size and shape.  Our heads were invariably cradled in our hands. The instructions were inscrutable. Written in Korea or China or Taiwan by humans fluent in languages other than English, there was no recourse to grammar or sentence structure or definitions; the pages had a logic all their own. Each piece was designed to slip easily into its corresponding section, or so the pages would have us believe.  The reality was always much more complicated. Hours passed.  Laughter turned to tears turned to anger.  It was a good thing that Big Cuter was too young to understand the verbiage; it was certainly not rated for an infant's ears.  We managed to get the slide attached to the climbing house.... or ...

I love my son. Among his many talents is an aptitude for heavy lifting. When his father and I were young and spry we set a good example for him.  One of his favorite stories is emptying his Junior year apartment at Georgetown, me in gym shorts and a tank top and sneakers, carrying two boxes precariously balanced in my arms as I maneuvered down the steps past another mother, this one dressed in silk and pearls, delicately holding a dry cleaning bag, containing one dress, as she wondered where the rest of her family was hiding. As age and infirmities and bullets have intervened, we've come to rely on Big Cuter's presence for heavy arranging.  This afternoon, in between bouts of Guillotine , he was on the ladder in the garage, bringing down boxes labeled Psych Books and Cornell Papers and Law School Stuff .  I can promise you that none of the treasures contained within that cardboard has been seen in this century.... or the latter half of the previous century, i...

This post is reprinted from several years ago. I've spent this holiday thinking about her. I decided to share her with you. *****  Her birthday was December 26th.  No wonder her son, whose birthday is January 2nd, and she didn't care that much about celebrating the event.  The big deal had already happened. For each of them, I think, that was the way it ought to be. She was a presence, my mother-in-law.  A great athlete in her youth, and her son's youth, by the time I met her she was on her cancer/heart/macular degeneration way toward the end.  I never ran the bases in Awful Arabs vs Terrible Turks family baseball games in the backyard, but I heard tales of her smacking the ball far enough for the littlest one, who grew up to be my Big Guy, to make it all the way home. Home was what she made.  G'ma kept us fed and clothed and I always knew I was loved, but home for me was overlaid with a patina of angst, of worry, of waiting for the next shoe to fa...

I give you, today, my all-time favorite Xmas carol, courtesy of Walt Kelly and Pogo. Sing loudly and lustily to the tune of Deck the Halls..... Deck us all with Boston Charlie, Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo! Nora's freezin' on the trolley, Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo! Don't we know archaic barrel Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou? Trolley Molly don't love Harold, Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo! Bark us all bow-wows of folly, Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo! Donkey Bonny brays a carol, Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you! Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon, Willy, folly go through! Chollie's collie barks at Barrow, Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo! Dunk us all in bowls of barley, Hinky dinky dink an' polly voo! Chilly Filly's name is Chollie, Chollie Filly's jolly chilly view halloo! Bark us all bow-wows of folly, Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof...

TBG wanted to title this post "A Goyish Chanukah" ... and I suppose I should have bowed to his desire since the whole thing was his idea. My menorah was filled with disabled candles. I broke them as I was putting them in, and, because I am cheap, I refused to throw them away.  A solid shamash would have been more sensible, but sensible wasn't part of my equation. I struggled to put that dark blue candle on its chair in the middle, after lighting all the others. It bent, it swiveled back and forth, it teetered, it dripped, it refused to melt at the bottom to be safely secured, and, finally, after much effort, if somewhat askew..... it was in.  Nes gadol haya sham , said I. A great miracle happened there.   It's part of the prayer. It was true tonight.  It made my husband laugh.   HAPPY HANUKAH.... however you spell it.

 I've been wearing the t-shirt I bought at this concert all week long. I've been searching for the CD.... have been making do with the link below. Happy Listening! *****  Big Cuter and I sang along with the Tuvan Throat Singers and Bela Fleck and the Flecktones at the Rialto Theater last night.  Had there been an aura-camera in front of us, I am certain that there would have been but one halo of wonderful light surrounding the two of us.  We were each with the other's perfect person for that moment.   I bought the tickets in September, as those of you who keep track of the information in the sidebar can attest.  I found Bela Fleck on Pandora, and liked the sound enough to click over and see what it was.  His banjo picking is clear and precise and quick, and even if  "the banjo isn't a real instrument," as Victor Wooten, the Flektone's tonsured-with-dreadlocks bass player snarkily smirked, he sure does make pretty music on it.  He's...

My holiday cards bring all sorts of information; do yours? Along with kudos for my brownies, I receive (sometimes lengthy... sometimes in teeny tiny font.... hint ... hint...) newsletters printed on festive paper.  No one ever has a bad day in those letters, unless you're Airman Dentist, and then all the reader can do is shake her head at the fact that they've come out at the end of December still intact.  For the most part, though, they are announcements of new jobs, new relationships, new homes, new trips, new babies (guilty). Poor report cards don't make it into the headlines, or even the fine print.  I'm not judging or complaining.  I'm just stating the facts as they appear in my mailbox.   Today's mail brought some astonishing news.  Our friend is the new Ambassador to Canada.   I had to stop and let it sink in for a while.  TBG hired him decades ago, I watched them build their dream house and create a dream famil...

  " Are you okay, Mom?  You sound tired." My boy was concerned. There was no energy behind my words.  I may even have been slurring a bit.  It was 8pm and I was leaning on my neck on Douglas, feet on the coffee table, barely able to hang on to the phone. Yes, I was tired. The tree was purchased, established safely and straight-ly in the base.  The lights run up and down the trunk and the main branches, but stick pretty close to the center.  It took an hour to install them... an hour on my feet, moving carefully, unwinding mini-lights, wearing long sleeves to protect my skin from the allergens in the Norfolk Pine.  The ornaments were unpacked, vaguely organized by size, shape and weight on the serving platters I used for the big holiday party we hosted in California. Cookies, champagne, guests putting ornaments on the tree.... it was designed to make my life easier.  Like most of my party plans, it was saner in the imagination than in ...

It was only 161 votes which separated Ron Barber, Democrat and fellow January 8th shootee, from his opponent in November's election, Martha McSally.  That's two hundred doorbells rung or not, 200 family members and friends who remained unconvinced, a block or two of  un-contacted voters.  That's what happens when a Congressional District is gerrymandered into equal thirds - Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. My little piece of heaven, Arizona's Legislative District 9, is sending two Democrats to Phoenix for the next session of the House.  Ethan Orr lost by 132 votes to Dr. Randall Friese, another January 8th friend. He'll join Victoria Steele in trying to make Arizona a more human-friendly place, one that cares about education and gun safety; he's already crafting legislation, or so his wife told me last week when we met at Pilates. I am trading a personal relationship in Washington, D.C. for one in Arizona's State House.  If, as Tip O'Neill ...

  GRIN was there, too. We were making frames for the pictures with Santa.    Everyone was dressed to the nines. These two were " almost twins". These sisters were working too intently to smile, but I couldn't let all that pink go unrecorded.   As Santa's elf sent pictures electronically, GRIN volunteers ran the craft table.  With paper and stickers and markers,  volunteers helped with the choices. There were so many, many choices.  Once the decision was made, Miss Ellen traced the 4x6 template into the middle of the frame.   She put an X through the rectangle which would hold the picture,   to remind the artist to keep the decorating outside the box. This led to decidedly mixed results.  Our listeners were very young   and very excited    After the first few episodes of confusion, we decided not to care.   Some t...